


"mm^B 



^me 






V-"^ 



w^ 



■:-^,^^-.:6>;<-;^'-^i^: \. 






. -■ ■y.6it..fbiv''!^.i.!t:! 



,/' 



../' 



<''' -- 


4, 


;-' -- 






/^// 




r "^ 


. /^^/ 


^ . ct 






/ 




^ 


,r - 




>.' ^ 


'' 




.r*;^^" 


// 


/ 

y 


^-^^ ^- 



'"> 4.>i^ 




Class _R5_3.5aS_ 
Book.Ikl&L___ 
Copyright }^°_ilQJ__ 

COPMRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



FLORAL . BEAUTY. 



A COIvI^BCTION OF 



ORIGINAL POEMS. 



. BY. 



B. FRANKLIN MINCH. 



Somewhere, love, in floral beauty 
Blooms an earthly Paradise. 



I90:i. ;, 



CHRONICE PRINT, 

BRIDGETON, N. J. 



y OFl 

REIVED I 



rTHE LIBRARY 
CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Received 

MAR, 16 1901 

Copyright entry 
' CLASS <5CxXo. N*. 
COPY B. 



T5 3^2>:' 



J.,01 



COPYRIGHT 1901. 

BY 

B. FRANKLIN MINCH. 



TO MY SCHOOLMATES AND FRIENDS, 

THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED 

BY THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



Somewhere, « _ . - . 5 

Our Best, _----- 6 

I Shall Be Loved Hereafter, - - - 8 

The True Poet, . . . . . 9 

Fairy Moonlight, . - - _ 10 
Rest Cometh, - - - - - . 11 

An Arbor-Day Poem, - - - - 12 

Where Angels Wait, - - - - 13 

Thoughts of Thee, . . - . 14 

Good Night, - - - - - 16 

Memories, _ - - . - 19 

Mirabeau, ...-.-- 20 

When the Star of Our Heart is Shining, - 21 

The Leper-Girl, - - - - - 22 

At Eventide, ----- 25 

Disease, - - - - - - 25 

Honor the Brave, - - - - 26 

Two Portraits, ----- 27 

Remembrance, - - - . 28 

The Deathless City, - - . . 29 

Montana, - - - - - - 31 

Beautiful Peace, - - • - - 32 
A Song of Waiting, - - - - -3? 



CONTENTS. ii 

Twisted, - - - - - - 34 

Cornelia's Lament for Caius Grachhus, - - 35 

Maidenhood, . . . . . ^7 

Within the Garden, - - - - - 38 

The Captive, _ _ _ . . ^8 

Throw off the Chains, - - - - 39 

The Vine and the Dove, _ _ _ ^q 

The Covering of the Throne, - - 41 

Lines Written for a Bible Presentation, - 43 

Peace and Rest, - - - - - 44 

The Goal, . - . _ . 45 

Bury Me Where the Arrow Falls, - - - 4b 

The Beauty Hath Faded, - - - 51 
Love's Language, ----- 52 

Christmas, Merry Christmas, - - - ' 53 
V/eep Not, ------ 54 

The Bicycle Speech, . - - . ^^ 

The Golden Key, . - - . . 57 

On a Thunder Shower, - - _ ^8 

The Myrtle, - - - - - 59 

The Sons of the Phil o., ... 60 

Sea Thoughts, - . - . _ 61 

Farew^ell, . - _ _ _ 63 



PREFACE. 



In response to repeated requests from those who have, 
seen a few of my poems, that they should be put in 
more convenient form for reading, I have selected the 
best of my pieces formerly published in the Philosophian 
Review of South Jersey Institute, and those more re- 
cently written, and placed them in this little voliimn. 

Composed as a means of amusement and recreation 
from study hours and during odd moments on the farm, 
my readers will not expect to finrl in them the polished 
perfection of a Tennyson but only the every-day songs 
and rhyms of a child of Nature who has derived much of 
his inspiration from the birds, the flowers and the stars. 

If these verses shall afford my friends and fellow- 
students a small portion of the pleasure experienced by 
the author in writing them, he will feel abundantly 
repaid. 

B. FRANKLIN MINCH, 
January, 1901. 



Oh! the beauty of the flowers when they first unfold to 

sighty 
How the soul expands with raptme and the heart beats 

with delight; 
Their intoxicating fragrance doth rejoice the sense of 

smell. 
More than all the costly odors clever man distills to sell. 

Oh! the beauty of the flowers as we see them everywhere; 
From, the pulpit on the Sabbath to the homes of want and 

care; 
On the marriage-day appointed how they deck the chosen 

room, 
Till the scene of youth and gladness is ablaze with light 

and bloom. 

Oh! the beauty of the flowers, how they soothe the 

suffering head: 
BreatJie a gentle perfume o'er us as we view the silent^ 

dead; 
Flowers we welcome in the summer when the skies are 

soft and fair. 
Doubly precious in the winter when the trees and earth 

are bare. 



FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

SOMEWHERB. 

Suggested by a lecture on the "Sunny Side of Life," 
delivered by Dr. Hedley, in Moore's Music Hall, Feb, 
6th, 1890. 

Somewhere, love, the skies are brighter, 

And with undiminished light, 
Ivuna sheds a tender radiance 

O'er the gathered hosts of night. 

Somewhere, love, like precious jewels 
Blaze the starry suns, that seem 

In that clear transparent region 
Em'rald, ruby, sapphire's gleam. 

Somewhere, love, in gayer plumage, 

Birds 'mid tropic forests sing; 
Flitting forth from light to shadow, 

Iviving rainbows on the wing! 

Somewhere, love, in floral beauty, 

Blooms an earthly paradise; 
There all colors blend, all perfumes 

Through successive seasons rise, 

Happy they who forth may wander. 
Where the skies appear more bright; 

But thrice blessed those, who rather 
Find in Home their chief delight. 



FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

OUR BKST. 

O, when these living forms of ours, 
Lie cold beneath the grass and flow'rs; 
When other hands shall hold the plow, 
And toil where we are toiling now; 
Shall sow the seed, and reap the grain, 
From fertile heart and fruitful plain; 
When yon same sun of purest white, 
Lends radiance to the orb of night, 
And evening stars of silv'ry hue. 
Look through the heav'n y wall of blue, 
As though the all-discerning eyes, 
Of Him, who watches from the skies, 
And guards us till we waking rise; 
When from the regions of the north, 
The bright aurora flashes forth, 
As if the sun by some strange hap, 
Had fall'n on old A.rctic's l^ip; 
When rivers from the mountain side. 
Still flow into the ocean wide, 
To mingle with its salty tide; 
Then rise within a darksome cloud, 
To fall amid the thunders loud, 
When lightning darts by Ze'us hurled, 
Bring wreck and ruin to the world; 
When seasons come and seasons go, 
Each with its share of joy and woe; 
Blithe Springtime robed in garb of green, 
With flow'rs as fair as we have seen, 
With leaves as glossy to the view, 
With birds that sing as sweetly too; 
Summer, that maiden of the South, 
Whose fruits fill empty hands and mouth, 
Who, on our Independence Day, 



FI^ORAI, BKAUTY. 

Holds 111 her hand the sheaves and hay. 
Autumn, whose joys seem lost in grief, 
As robed with many a dying leaf, 
And stained with blood-drops of the chase, 
From Winter's gaze he hides his face. 
And yet, a grateful people hold, 
Thanksgiving Day within his fold; 
Winter, that king of northern birth. 
Who spreads a mantle on the earth, 
When Christmas fills the land with cheer, 
And brings the Prince of Bethlehem near. 

What scenes sball thrill this great world then, 

When we shall be no longer men ? 

What shoulders shall lyife's burdens bear ? 

Shall they a richer harvest share, 

In deeds of love, lives made taore fair? 

However well they may succeed, 

Whatever praise may be their meed, 

They shall receive at God's behest, 

No more than we — in this we rest. 

Who seek the right and do our best. 

Our best friends, we should ever do; 

At school, at home, abroad be true. 

For each short hour of mortal life. 

Each day of labor, progress, strife, 

Brings us yet nearer to the grave. 

From which no friendly hand can save; 

Brings Time yet nearer to the sea, 

That hath no bounds — eternity. 



FI.ORAI, BKAUTY. 

I SHALL BE LOVED HEREAETER. 

Dedicated to the memory of Fred G. Sage, upon whose 
translation of a German motto signifying the above, the 
poem was written: 

I shall be loved hereafter. 

When other flowers bloom; 
When the year that now is fleeing. 

To a younger year gives room. 

I shall be loved hereafter, 

When other warblers sing, 
And shrilling their sweet matins, 

Welcome the gentle Spring. 

I shall be loved hereafter, 
When other bright leaves fade; 

And Autumn's crown of glory. 
Lies sere on hill and glade. 

I shall be loved hereafter, 

For Venus never dies; 
The spirit she hath given 

Was w^on beyond the skies. 

I shall be loved hereafter, 
Though Earth not all is love, 

And many a heart lies broken, 
Unblest by the gentle Dove. 

I shall be loved hereafter, 
Not this mere day and hour: 

Nor Earth can find, nor Heaven, 
*Mongst men so great a pow'r. 



FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

I shall be loved hereafter, 

O words of kindly hope! 
No mortal mind can reckon 

Your length and breadth and scope. 

I shall be loved hereafter, 
But who receives must give. 

Else, vain are hopes of friendship, 
Though rich or poor we live. 

I shall be loved hereafter, 

Short be my life, or long. 
I shall be loved hereafter 

In the land of ceaseless song. 



THE TRUE POET. 

Not every hand that pens a stave 
Earns, ere it passes to the grave, 

The name of Great; 
Not every soul that doth aspire 
To utter words of living fire, 

Gaius high estate. 

Who toils for wealth or fame alone, 
Discovers but a worthless stone 

When it is won; 
But he who seeks mankind to bless. 
Finds, better than the world's success, 

His Lord's* 'Well done.'' 



FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

FAIRY MOONLIGHT, 



•*Fairy moonlight! 
Hail to the queen of the silent night/' 

Fairy moonlight! Fairy moonlight! 
Dancing o'er the land and sea, 
Heaven's joy is in thy beaming; 
Fairy moonlight, smile on me. 

Fairy moonlight; Silent Fairy! 
Night's dark brow is bathed by thee, 
Thou dost chase away his shadows; 
Fairy come and smile on me. 

Fairy moonlight; Witching Fairy! 
Gladly I thy brightness see. 
Thou dost shed a gentle radiance; 
Smile thy sweetest smile on me. 

Fairy moonlight, Oueen of Even! 
Stars adorn thy canopy, 
Haloes are thy crowns of glor3\ 
Gracious Fairy, smile on me. 

Fairy moonlight, Queen of beauty! 
Would that all might learn of thee, 
Copying they modest sweetness, 
Lovely Fairy, smile on me. 

Fairy moonlight, Shining Fairy? 
Oft I think of home and thee. 
As thy rays are omnipresent, 
Shine upon that home and me. 



I^LORAI, BEAUTY. II 

Fairy moonlight, Gentle Fairy! 

Breathe thy peace into my heart, 

Bring me thoughts of friends who love me, 

Blessed Fairy, ere we part. 

Fairy moonlight! Fairy moonlight! 
Clothe me in thy robe of white. 
Watch above me while I'm sleeping, 
Guardian Fairy, now, good night! 



REST COMETH. 

A SUMMER PICTURE, 

Tired out! When day is done 

Rest Cometh. 
Since no longer beams the sun, 
Hush'd are sounds of work and fun, 
Bird and bee in silence dumb, 

Th* bee that hummeth. 

Flowers, too, are sleeping now, 

Petals folded; 
Zephyrs fan the heated brow; 
Rivers swift, more gently flow, 
Stars reflecting as they go, 

Banks-enmoulded, 

Tired out! When life is o'er 

Rest cometh. 
Softly through the open door, 
Angels from the Heavenlj^ Shore, 
Bear the soul that tires no more — 

Rest cometh. 



12 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

AN ARBOR-DAY POEM. 



Go forth to the planting to-day! 

Come out from the school and the home! 

Ail Nature invites you to come; 

So plant us a tree while you may, 
Whose branches shall wave in the bright sunny 

air 
Uncrowded and free, o'er the youthful and fair, 

Who plays 'neath the vernal skies. 

Go forth to the planting to-day, 

Blithe maidens and fun-loving boys! 

For this the season of joys. 

Let parents and children be gay, 
And the fathers shall plant while their children 

sing, 
And our Arbor Day with the shouting ring 

Of irrepressible boys. 

Go forth to the planting to-day! 

O 3^outh of the East and West! 

And your labor and toil shall be blest. 

Not merely for shade by the way; 
But in building of homes, in the fuel ye burn, 
In the tools that are used at every turn, 

Shall the planting of trees be blest. 

Go forth to the planting to-day! 

Let chestnut and apple tree share 

With the maple, your arboral care. 

Give the songsters of sweet-scented May 
A choir for their feet and a place for their nest; 
Aud a song shall be poured from each feathered 
breast. 

To thank you for Arbor Day. 



FLORAL BEAUTY. I 3 

Go forth to the planting to-day! 

The millions of acres laid bare 

Of forests that long flourished there, 

Are calling to us and they say: 
^'Repair, O repair the waste of your land, 
Ivest showers be few, and your soil as the sand 

Refuse to yield fruitage or grain. 

Go forth to the planting today! 

Trees sheltered your rills from the sun, 

But now that the forests are gone, 

The streamlets are drying away. 
Go fill up the breach that the woodman hath 

made, 
More blest than the axe is the work of the spade 

'Tis better to plant than destroy." 

Go forth to the planting to-day! 

May beauty appeal to our pride! 

Nor the promptings of need be denied, 

Till the groves we have planted shall sway 
From the I^akes to the Gulf, and from shore to 

shore, 
And Columbia's glory shall be as of yore 

In her beautiful forests of green. 

WHERK ANGEIvS WAIT. 

When our feet have passed the portal 
Where 'tis said the angels wait. 
Where true character lends beauty 
Whose bright charms cati ne'er abate, 
We shall find that earth's affection 
Was a budding Aron's rod. 
Blooming forth in full perfection 
In the Zion of our God. 



14 FI^ORAL BKAUTY. * 

THOUGHTS OF THBB. 

Oh, if amid thy lonelier hours 
A thought of one is borne to thee. 

As clowds are borne by unseen powers 
Along the blue infinity. 

If some blithe spirit of the air, 

Or whispering Cupid, from the mind 

At eve disp^ 1 the shades of care, 

And bid thy thoughts rove unconfined, 

If early memories retain 

A fragrance still like flowers long prest, 
And old time friends to thee remain 

More dear hy far than all the rest. 

Thou wilt not blame nor yet reprove 

These lines that speak my thoughts of thee; 

*We love to think of those we love;' 
And love s own tongue \^ poetry. 

When Phoeb is in his glory hath 
Thro' morning's flaming portals passed, 

And high o'erhead pursues his path 
Drawn by his fiery steeds full fast; 

He swiftly sends a thought of thee 

Thro' shadowy mind's mysterious halls, 

And all the dull monotony 
Of daily toil, forsakes her walls. 

And when, his shining race complete, 

He pauses at the western gate 
And checks his tireless coursers' feet, 

(Ah ! how impatiently they wait); 
He smiling bids the world adieu, 

Then casts a ling'ring glance on me, 
As if, while fading from my view, 

To hint that I should think of thee. 



1 



FLORAL BEAUTY. I5 

Oft when the twilight shadows fall 

Across the valley and the hill, 
And all is silent save the call 

Of some far-distant whip-poor-will, 

There is a thought which floats along 

Upon the light wings of the breeze, 
Sweet as the music of a song, 

Or incense of the forest trees. 

That of these messengers of night 

Which follow close on day's decline, 
Some zephyr, that in gentler flight 

Bathed thy soft cheek, now touches mine. 

When Cynthia, Fairy Queen of Night, 

Rides forth in all her royal power. 
And from her garments beams of light 

Decend to earth in silvery shower. 

I love to watch her radiant face, 

Serenely pure and calmly sweet. 
And picture there the modest grace 

Ot one, whose smile 'tis joy to meet. 

And w^hen I join the drowsy band 

Who cease to think, that they may dream, 

And tread you strange fantastic land 
Where nothing is but all things seem. 

There in my visions I behold 

Thy ^ace, sweet friend, so near, so real, 

That I, thy hand could almost hold, 
And thou, my touch couldst well-nigh feel. 

■H- -X- -X- ^ -H- 

When sun and moon and winds unite 

To bring thy memory to me, 
And dreams supply the absent sight, 

How can I help but think of thee? 



l6 FLORAI, BEAUTY. 

GOOD NIGHT. 

IN MEMORIAM. II. J. MULFORD, JR. 

I see in vision by his mother's knee, 
A little child scarce more than two years old, 
Come from his lips in infant words of prayer: 
*'God bless the Institute, and all who there, 
Or far away, are with its work connected." 
Then when the mother's kiss to him is given, 
A precious debt by childhood quickly repaired, 
And in his cot the nestling head is laid. 
Before she leaves him to his happy dreams. 
He lisps "good night," and softly falls asleep. 

The vision changes. 'Tisa student's face 
On which I gaze — a 3^outh of eighteen years, 
His eyes bent down upon a text-book, where 
The lamp shines brightly on his glossy hair, 
While in a glass his image is reflected. 
But all is still except the clock that ticking. 
Records the hours and minutes as they fly, 
(Who loves to study, studies quietly) 
. When suddenly, he hears the bed-time hour. 
And quickly rising, stops to say "Good night." 

I dream again. But one short year hath fled 
Since last I look'd upon that peaceful home. 
He is not there, but in the "Quaker town," 
Upon a bed by dire disease born down, 
Sadly he lies, while kindly friends watch o'er him 
I see him toss amid the fever's power. 
The tortured brain gives speech unto the tongue 
But knows not what it speaks. The words are 
wrung 

As from the lips when in an awful dream. 



FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 



17 



Yet there are times, as when the mid-day sun 
Pierces the darkness of the clouded day, 
When Reason reigns, but transient is her sway. 
The clouds return and veil the blessed light. 

As they come he wliispeislow ''Good night. '^ 
*' *Tis well with him," the Shunamite replied, 
When Israel's prophet asked her of her son. 
And Jesus spake with meaning, O how deep, 
Of Martha's brother, ''He is but asleep." 
To sleep is w^ell within the Master's bosom, 
So calls our shepherd to the upper fold 
His sheep and lambs, the youthful and the old. 
Good night, good night, good morning shall be 

said. 
When Resurrection's light breaks o'er thy head. 



Behold of dust all mortal flesh is form'd, 
So to the dust our mortal frames return, 
But wings the spirit at departing breath. 
Its upw^ard flight from these abodes of death. 
Most gladly freed from sin, disease and sorrow. 
But though from sight thy genial face is hidden, 
Ivong shall it beam from Mem'ry's pictured halls 
As doth th}^ sire's from Alma Mater's walls. 
And though we mourn thee, miss thy cheerful 

greetings, 
Our loss has been to thee eternal gain. 

Oft have I seen the glorious setting sun 
Lie like a seal upon the finished day, 
Whose acts the best of us cannot repeal. 
So hath God placed upon thy life his seal — 
Thy day, as short as one of Winter's making. 
Yet, not by hours,but deeds our lives are 
measured. 



1 8 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

And when we stand beside the Judge's throne, 
Upon the left His foes, the right His own, 
Not those who idly lived for many a year, 
But those who toiled with Him, shall gain the 
crown. 

He that plucks flowers where blossoms sweetly 

bloom, 
Doth take the fairest, sweetest and most pure. 
None are too bright to dress the May-Queen *s 

bow'r; 
And none too fragrant in that happy hour 
To form her crown — a crown so quickly fading, 
Marvel not then that He the Source of beauty, 
Who gave to Purity and Perfume birth, 
Should stoop to gather from His garden Earth, 
The choicest flowers that therein are found, 
To deck His palace and adorn his crown. 

*Twas the same year that gave to us our birth, 
The same sun that bathed each youthful cheek, 
The same stars that bade us each good night, 
And one same moon that gave us ev'ning light; 
That moon which now her nightly vigils keeping 
Looks on thy grave with soft and pitying 
glances. 

While wintry winds their mournful requiems 

sing, 
And birds aerial pause upon the wing 
To note another mound among the dead — 
Another home within the gen'rous earth. 
Life is as fitful as a fever'd dream; 
Good morning scarcely said ere it is night, 
Good night ere morning opes our closed eyes. 
And that which fills at first with glad surprise, 
Soon we discover is unsatisfying. 
But life is short, here lies our grief and comfort . 



FI^ORAIv BEAUTY. I9 

Grief that our friends so soon leave our embraces, 
Comfort that soon we may behold their faces. 
May we be found In Life's most solumn hour 
Watching, not dreaming in forbidden sleep. 

Oh, could we look where angel eyes have seen, 
And hear the music of celestial tongues, 
i Taste heav'nly fruit, drink of those crystal streams 
Where cloudless light upon their surface gleams, 
And most of all behold the loving Saviour — 
Well might we long to share thy happy portion. 
Blest land where friends may meet and never part, 
May never feel Affliction's painful dart, 
Where none grow* weary in the long,long day — 
In that fair land they never say *'Good Night. '^ 



MEMORIES. 

A SONNET. 

'Tis ours in memory to tread the past, 
To climb again the verdant slopes of youth, 
When riper years have taught us this great truth: 
That life is preparation to the tast. 
O these are golden days that speed bO fast! 
The voice of Springtime greets us in the breeze 
That scatters blossoms from the laden trees — 
From lovely flow'rs which deck no May-day mast. 
And this is Springtime, if we could but know 
Our choicest blessings ere they be no more. 
Would that the Fount of Youth indeed might flow! 
It may not be, but keep this thought in store: 
Though youth is fleeting, yet its memories stand, 
While those of Age are writ upon the sand. 



FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

MIRABBAU. 

Sprinkle me with perfumes, crown me with flowers, 
surround me with music, that I may thus enter upon 
eternal sleep.— Count Mirabeau 1791. 

Sweetest perfumes o'er me sprinkle, 
While the tapers round me twinkle; 
Smooth out every careworn w^rinkle, 
From the brow of Mirabeau. 

Crown me with the rarest flowers, 
Gathered from the choicest bowers; 
'Tis the meed of mighty powers 
Thus to honor Mirabeau. 

Oh! forget the hasty passion, 
All m}^ sins 'gainst social fashion; 
In this hour let soft compassion 

Wreathe the dying Mirabeau. 

For the good that I intended, 
Equal rights with freedom blended; 
For French despotism ended, 

Crown the brow of Mirabeau. 

Soon will cease this tongue of fire, 
Tune the voice and strike the lyre. 
Raise the music ever higher 

Round the dying Mirabeau. 

Thus prepared, I will be taking 
That last sleep which hath no w^aking, 
Friends and home and love forsaking, 
'Tis the last of Mirabeau. 

Let men weep for coming evil. 
For the nation's vast upheaval, 
Ivike the Earth's in times primeval. 
Let them weep for Mirabeau. 



FI^ORAIv BKAUTY. 21 

WHKN THE STAR OF OUR HEART IS SHINING, 

The stars are shining brightly, 

Roselle! 
And the autumn breeze blows lighlly 
Mid the silence that is nightly, 

Roselle! Roselle! 
But what to us are the silvery stars 
Which follow the day's declining, 
If we only can sa}'^ "By night and by day 
The Star of our heart is shining.'* 

The stars are all a-smiling, 

Roselle! 
From afar the hours beguiling, 
As the eventide I'm whiling; 

Roselle! Roselle! 
But less to me are the starry smiles 
On the features of Night reclining, 
Than the ripples that flow o'er thy face aglow, 
When the star of my heart is shining. 

At eve, when upward gazing, 

Roselle! 
On the beauty so amazing. 
Of the stars like beacons blazing, 

Roselle! Roselle! 
I'll think of one 'neath the pure blue sky, 
In * 'Cupid's own temple" reclining; 
As they whisper to me m ethereal glee, 
**The Star of thy heart is shining." 



22 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

THE LEPER-GIRL. 

FROM A PROSE TALE BY JOACHIM MILLER. 

Softly o*er the broad Pacific, 
Blew the ocean breezes mild, 
Gently playing with the tresses — 
With the loosely-flowing tresses — 
Of a sad but sweet faced child. 

All the splendor of the ocean, 
Burnished by the setting sun, 
All the glory of the cloudland — 
Of the ever-changing cloudland — 
Spread before her sight anon. 

But these parts of one grand painting 
Drawn by Nature's matchless hand, 
Seemed as idle to the laden — 
To that heart with sorrow laden — 
As a fairy's fabled wand. 

From the precious home of childhood. 

From a father's tender care, 

The affection of a brother. 

Those she loved— she had no mother — 

Did the waves the maiden bear. 

From the 'own of Honolulu 
Exiled to the outcast's isle. 
For the maiden was a leper, 
With the destiny of It per. 
Could the most courageous smile ? 

Sad indeed her short sea voyage 
To that dreaded island home, 
Leaving friends and hope forever — 
Rosy hopes of youth forever — 
Jusi across the ocean foam. 



I^I^ORAI, BEAUTY. 



23 



There they placed her with the wretched 
Dwellers of that leper-land, 
Where the great apostle-martyr — 
Damiens, most noble martyr — 
Gently taught the little band. 

Where through years of weary waiting 
Slow consumes the flesh away, 
Till at last is heard the summons — 
Oh, how joyful such a summons 
To the land beyond decay! 

Three months passed, when o'er the waters 
By the same bark she had come. 
There arrived her playmate brother, 
Came the watch-dogs and her brother, 
Then it seemed almost like home. 

One day as they sat together 
On the wave-resisting strand. 
Gazing at the moving billows — 
Like a cloud-wreath moved the billows 
Till they broke upon the sand. 

Suddenly up spoke the brother: 
*'Let us seek our own loved home, 
Let us leave these loathsome people — 
To their sorrows leave these people — 
Only say that you will come. 



I will make a raft, dear sister. 

And we'll float across the wave, 

To our home at Honolulu, 

'Tis not far to Honolulu, 

See! my hands are strong and brave." 



24 FI^ORAL BKAUTY. 

Darkness settled o'er the lepers 

At the isle of Molokai; 

But the children twain were missing, 

All that night the twain were missing, 

No one saw them far or nigh. 

Those who sought them fearing danger 
(For such absence oft alarms) 
Found them in the early morning — 
In the quiet peaceful morning — 
Clasped within each other's arms. 

(As a mother lays her infant 
In its little cradle-nes^, 
So the cruel-hearted ocean 
Half repenting, in emotion, 
Placed them on the shore to rest. ) 

And as one friend saw them lying 
With the sand amid their hair, 
Lo! he touched the boyish fingers, 
Gazed upon those cold white fingers, 
And no leprosy was there. 

Could it be that he had feigned it ? 
Yes, the raft revealed his plan; 
How he left his home to find her, 
How he risked his life to save her, 
And had died as heroes can. 

So they buried them together. 
Surely none could part them now; 
With the lilies and the roses — 
Pure white lilies, buds of roses — 
O'er each heart and round each brow. 



I 



FLORAI, BEAUTY. ^ 25 

Still are seen the silent crosses 
On that wave-surrounded isle, 
Pointing upward to the heaven 
Where to mortals it is given 
Ne'er to weep, but ever smile. 

o 

AT KVENTIDB. 

*Tis sweet to vv^ait at eventide the coming of a friend, 
To think of pleasant things to say before the Even end; 
To listen for the sound of wheels,the footsteps at the gate, 
To welcome if he early come, or if he cometh late. 

'Tis sweet to ride at eventide along some country road, 
The spangled blue our can >py, our carpeting the sod. 
With flowers strewed beside the way by Nature's kindly 

hand, 
And cheerful music furnished by the chirping cricket band. 

DISEASE. 

Oft have I seen the fruit that might have hung 
Till richly ripe up m the laden bough. 
Fall premature, thro' some insidious worm 
That worked, unmoved by summer heat or storm, 
Unseen itself though one could mark its labor. 
So upon man, best fruit of God's creation, 
Doth feed the worm of fierce and fell Disease, 
Quiet sometimes as one who sits at ease. 
At others struggling with his human prey, 
Too oft the victor in the bloodless fight. 



26 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

HONOR THE BRAVE. 

A Memorial Day Poem. Dedicated tx) the Heroes of 1861. 

Honor the brave who in glory have fallen, 
Strew with bright flowers the tombs where they lie; 
These were the heroes who bled for their country, 
To save it they feared not to battle and die. 
Leaving their homes at the call of the Nation, 
Marching for many a mile on the way, 
Sleeping at night on the earth cold and frozen, 
To wake in the morning and rush to the fray. 

Honor the brave who in glory have fallen — 

Some on the hillside and some on the plain, 

Some met their death in the dark gloomy prison, 

Some in the hospital burdened with pain; 

For not alone in the fierce hail of battle, 

'Mid the smoke of destruction aimed deadlj' and sure, 

With drums loudly beating and flags proudly streaming, 

Perished these comrades whose labors endure. 

Honor the brave \Vho in glory have fallen — 
What though their ashes may lie far away, 
Ne'er be it said that the deeds of the fathers 
Are forgot by the sons on Memorial Day. 
O'er them unfurl the old banner they carried, 
Over them sing the dear hymns that they loved; 
Theirs was the danger and toil of the contest, 
Ours is the Union they sealed with their blood. 

Honor the brave who among us are living, 
Smaller each year are the numbers they bring; 
Fewer the hands left to scatter the garlands. 
Fewer the tongues that so tremblingly sing; 
Soon will their ears all be deaf to our praises 
Soon will they pass where all conflict is o'er 
From the muster of earth to the roll call of Heaven 
Where beautiful Peace sits enthroned evermore. 



IfI.ORAI. BEAUTY. 2^ 

TWO PORTRAITS. 

What are portraits, but the memories 
Of our dearest friends and joys ? 
Intruments of recollection, 
They are something more than toys. 
Placed within a certain album 
Rest two portraits side by side; 
One of them a dark-haired maiden, 
One a youth in boyish pride. 

Not this hand placed them together, 
Not this hand shall part them now; 
Tho' the tide hath reached its turning, 
And they only mark the flow. 
What recks eithei of the ebbing ? 
Little brought that inward tide; 
Yet there seems a silent pathos 
In those portraits side by side. 

Speak to me no more of friendship, 

Such as youthful hearts may hold. 

*Tis the dream and a delusion! 

*Tis a dross and not the gold! 

While true friendship stands yet brighter 

After that it has been tried — 

But V\\ leave them there together. 

Youth and maiden side by side. 

Strange that we should pass till withered 
What was once a fragrant flower. 
Strange that we should be unwilling 
In the moment of our power; 
Strange we oft forsake when nearest, 
That for which we've hoped and sighed, 
Quitting friendship when we've found it — 
But I'll leave them side by side. 



28 FLORAI, BEAUTY. 

Sometimes when the lamps are sparkling, 

Thro' the quiet sombre town; 

And the moon stoops in her journey 

To once more "shine deeply down" — 

Then, pe haps, two hearts may ponder 

On a iormer eventide: 

So I'll leave them there together, 

Leave ihem seated side by side. 

Sometimes when Life's sea is troubled, 
And the stars are lost in night. 
One face still may pierce the darkness, 
Shining with its old-time light. 
Tho' the bark indeed is riven, 
Snapped the oars the rowers plied. 
Each hath sought a sep'rate haven — 
I will leave them side by side. 

Yes, I'll leave them there together, 
With her face still turned toward mine, 
As it used to be in school -days, 
Ere there came the paning-time. 
They shall bring to my remembrance. 
Whatsoever doth betide, 
Joys and pleasures past returning. 
Those two portraits side by side. 

REMEMBRANCE. 

To be remembered like yon bird that sings, 
Then sink in some dark recess of the soul — 
This is the common lot that living brings; 
But as the years their ceaseless surges roll, 
O bring sometimes from out its hidden place 
A boyish image and a youthful face! 



I 



FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 29 

THE DEATHLESS CITY. 

A LEGEND. 

There was a city in the ancient time, 
Worthy of sage's thought or poet's rhyme. 
It stood upon a pleasing tableland, 
And noble prospects ope'd on either hand. 

On distant mountains fell the winter snows, 
Whose summits far above the clouds arose; 
Below it lay a heated tropic plain, 
With broad-leaved palms and verdant sugar- 
cane. 

But in thai town, Summer nor Winter came, 
One season only — and Springtime its name. 
Earthquake and famine never troubled there; 
No germs of fever floated in the air. 

Strong were its walls, watch-towers on ev'ry s'de, 
The brazen gates by day were open wide; 
Fair were its homes with marble-covered wallsi 
And ne'er disgraced by shameless drunken 
brawls. 

There, the Death Angel never came, they vSaid, 
To take away from some bright home its head, 
Or, leave instead of some dear child his own, 
The Angel sadness to the mourner known. 

No wonder people pressed from far and near 
To that strange town whose name allayed their 

fear, 
For many dreaded th' Invisible One, 
Who stopped the breath beneath the stars or sun. 



30 FI^ORAI, BKAUTY. 

But one who came with hope from Death to flee, 
Had caught the p'agne beyond th' Arabian sea. 
They deemed him weary with his journey long, 
Who kept the gate and passed him with the 
throng. 

The sunset came, and darkness from the east 
Arose to cover weary man and beast. 
It mattered little to the sick man there. 
Whose pallid form grew colder than the air. 

'Tis midnight now and from the jewxUed sky 
An angel cometh. Swift but silently 
He flies within the town, and pausing not. 
Straightway he seeks the sick man's humble cot. 

Touching his lips he quickly goes his w^ay. 
The lips are sealed. He waits the Judgment Day, 
When each must tell of actions good or ill, 
And hear the verdict ol God's righteous will. 

The Deathless City lost its name for aye; 
Nor can a city to the present day, 
Claim such a title, truly, for its own, 
As once belonged to this old fabled town. 

But ye who stand with weary outstretched arms, 
Waiting release from earthly cares and harms- 
I seem to hear you speak with wondrous joy 
Of some blest land whose peace knows no alloy. 

Where life eternal broadens and expands — 
A heavenly city never built by hands. 
And as I turn the leaves of inspired lore, 
I see it there described — and search no more. 

Yes, I believe the Deathless City found: 
A failure here — success it there hath crowned, 
Where sin is. Death his shades wnll ever throw; 
In Heaven only may we freedom know. 



IM,0RAI, BEAUTY. 3 1 

MONTANA. 

TO A I^RIEND. 

^^fiand where the grizzly prows and falls, 

Pierced by the hunter's leaden balls; 
't .and where the panther crouches low 

To spring upon his human foe — 
Is far-away Montana. 

Where the Missouri's headstrearas rise, 
And snowy mountains guard the skies; 
Where Indian braves did Custer foil, 
And tinged with blood the rocky soil. 
Of laraway Montana. 

!f v'and where through canyons deep and lone, 
Foams on the restless Yellowstone, 
Angry that rocks his way oppose; 
Hager to meet his friend, he flows 
Through faraway Montana. 

Where Nature in her vaults, we're told, 
Hath stored her wealth of precious gold; 
Where cattle feed on grassy hills, 
And quench their thirst from crystal rills — 
In faraway Montana. 

O when the dew^s of ev'ning fall. 
And Night's dark wings o'ershadow all — 
When Day's bright steed tired lags behind. 
And Night's fresh courser braves the wind, 
Of faraway Montana. 

'Tis then thy thoughts shall quickly fly 
O'er valley deep and valley high, 
Across the distant western plain. 
More swift than swiftest lightning train 
To faraway Montana. 



32 FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 

To that fair spot amid the West, 
Of all thy homes the dearest, best; 
For thou canst find where'er thou roam 
No place so dear as childhood's home, 
In Jersey or Montana. 



BKAUTIFUIy PEACE. 



TO ONE IN Sickness. 
Away from the busy world's jar and noise. 
With its weary labor, exciting joys, 
Lying so still in the quiet room — 
Darkened as if by the twilight's gloom — 
I almost see thee in fancy's ken 
Becoming a little child again. 
Beautiful Peace with her bright angel wings 
Float o'er thy pillow and give thee sweet rest! 

'Tis hard to be sick, we are prone to say, 
While others go on with their work and play; 
But sickness and health have both their place 
In' the all-wise Father's plan and grace; 
And some day we too shall the reason know, 
And thank Him, because it was better so. 
Beautiful Peace with her broad angel wings 
Encircle thy pillow and hush thee to rest! 

And oh! how it brings cherished friends more near, 
So willing to help and ready to cheer: 
What though their presence may be denied, 
Each one in spirit is at thy side; 
And when thou art well and vStrong, ah! then, 
They'll welcome thee back to th' world again. 
Beautiful Peace with her soft angel wings 
Brood o'er thy pillow and lull thee to rest! 



FLORAL BEAUTY. 33 

A SONG OF WAITING. 

I was dozing on a morning all alone within my room, 
Long ago the sun had banished all the even's witching 

gloom, 
And while in that restless slumber, which at times wnll 

come by da}^, 
When w^e fall asleep a-thinking and our thoughts are far 

away; 

Lo! I heard the rarest singing in a room the floor below, 
And the burden of the music is the strangest thing I 

know. 
And I thought the voice melodious sang all purposely for 

me." 
As I lay it floated upward, *'I am waiting — wait for 

thee." 

Half arising, soft I listened, but alas the song was o'er, 
I had left the fairy Dream-land and could never hear 

it more. 
But as from the rocky caverns, waves resound unto 

the sea. 
So there came to me the echo, *'I am waiting — wait 

for thee." 

Quickly down I wrote the wording, ere it passed be- 
yond my ken, 

For our dreams are swiftly fading and they seldom 
*com.e again.' 

Thus I heard the song of waiting with its untold mystery ; 

W^ho in all the world was waiting, who is waiting now 
for me? 



■^ 



34 FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 

TWISTED. 

Sometimes, when the wintry wind blows chill, 
And the snow lies deep o'er vale and hill 

Where the skies and earth have trysted; 
We bring in the cornstalks from the field, 
Where, standing in soil by the frost congealed? 

Their tops are all torn and twisted. 

We may pull and tug "to our hearts' content, 
W"e may give the thoughts that arise full vent, 

Till with rage our eyes are misted; 
But instead of that 'tis the wiser plan 
To unloosen those stalks as best we can, 

And take them the way they're twisted. 

All over this planet so large and round, 
Wliere people of every sort are found, 
C'^ Both generous and close-fisted; 
There are natures crooked and warped by pride, 
While others by habits are strongly tied, 
And tangled, snarled and twisted. 

If we only could see the 'spark divine,' 
That in ev'ry human was meant to shine, 

Our pity would be enlisted; 
We would seek the brothers that go astray, 
And, leading them back to the better way, 

We'd take them as they are, twisted. 

Could we put ourselves in our brother's place, 
Our tongues would speak with a kindlier grace. 

Of the weak and unassisted; 
And we each would have a larger share 
Of that charity so sweet and rare. 

That takes men the way they're twisted. 



FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 35 

CORNKIvIA'S LAMENT FOR CAIUS 
GRACCHUS. 

The following poem is founded upon an incident in 
Roman history, which happened about 121 B. C, 
during the contest between the aristocracy and 
common people. Those acquainted with the history of 
Rome will remember that Cornelia had two sons, Tiber- 
ius and Cains, and that Tiberius was killed some years 
prior to his younger brother. 



There had been a cruel battle 
On the Roman Aventine, — 
Cains Gracchus and his comrades 
'Gainst the proud patrician line. 

And his young wife with Cornelia 
Waited anxiously and long, 
Fearing for the life of Caius, 
For the nobles' hate was strong. 

Oft they sought the quiet doorway, 
Oft the^^ look'd across the vale, 
Till at length the fair Lucretia 
Spoke, with features deadly pale: 

''Mother, in the hazy distance, 
I can just discern a crow^l: 
See! they bear a headless body; 
With its weight the men are bow'd." 

"It is Caius! O, my darling 

Have they dared to slay thee too? 

Curses on the rich patricians, 

Who would pierce my poor heart through!" 

Now the slaves have reached the dwelling. 
And have laid their master down; 
While the mother, in her anguish, 
Speaks the grief uo words can drown: 



36 FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 

''Could they not have spared the forehead 
That in youth so oft I pressed; 
And the hair so dark and glossy, 
That a mother's hand caressed? 

"Fare thee well, my dearest Caius, 
I cannot reproach thee now; 
For my heart is almost broken, 
From mine eyes the tears will flow. 

I shall think of thee, O Caius; 
When the Tiber murmurs low; 
As I walk beside its bosom 
Brooding o'er my double woe. 

"I shall think of thee when Phoebus 
Greets the morning dressed in gray; 
I shall think of thee when sunset 
Bids adieu the parting Day. 

"I shall think of thee when Springtime 
Spreads the green o'er northern hills, 
I shall think of thee when Autumn 
Plucks the fruit that summer fills. 

*'I shall think of all thy labors 
For the poor who loved thee well. 
How for them thy life was given, 
Mem'ry's voice shall ever tell. 

"All too soon Life's bow is broken; 
All too swift the arrow flies;' 
All too early from Life's drama 
Pass the loving and the wise. 

"Nevermore will ring thy laughter 
Through these lonely hails of mine. 
Nevermore the crested helmet, 
O'er thy manly brow will shine. 



FI^ORAI, BKAUTY. 37 

* •Nevermore shall I behold thee 
111 the shadoTi' or the light; 
Till among the fields Elysian 
I shall join thy spirit bright. 

*'Not in vain thy blood has sprinkled 
The unhalh»w'd soil of Rome; 
For the poor shall find a helper, 
When her greatest son shall come. 

*'They shall rear us noble statues, 
When Fame's tidal inward runs; 
They shall give to me the title; 
'Mother of the Gracchi sons'.'' 

MAIDENHOOD. 

Bright-eyed as Night dark ruler of the skies; 
Fresh as the rose bedecked with pearly dew, 
Blithe as a bird, with cares as light and few, 
And fair as lilies to admiring eyes; 
With smiles, sweet relic of that Paradise 
Which Eve and Adam fled so long ago, 
See! o'er the cheeks how joyously they flow. 
As Cynthia modest, who, man's lamps outvies, 
Yet veils with clouds her charms from his rude 

gaze, 
And soars majestic through the realms of air; 
Fitted like her to shine with brightest rays 
When ev'ning shades succeed to Phoebus glare, 
A Scepter'd queen whose pow'r is understood; 
This — is a maiden in her maidenhood. 



38 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

WITHIN THE GARDEN. 

Within the garden of thy heart 
I crave the choicest vine, 
From out the chalice of thy heart 
Pour me the rarest wine. 

The purple grapes that clustering hang 
Like curls upon the brow, 
Shall still the hunger of my soul 
That longeth tor thee now. 

The flowing wine that sparkles bright 
Ivike sunlit foam at sea, 
The rich wine of thy love, shall quench 
My thirst which pants for thee. 

O to be drunken with delight, 
And satisified with joy! 
To taste the rapture of th}^ lips! 
A bliss without alloy. 

Earth hath no pleasures that compare 
With those of thy pure love, 
They fill the soul, and raise the mind 
All common things above. 



THE CAPTIVE. 

Within each breast strong elements there are 
That tend success or failure to produce; 
Each passion freed, a might}^ fiend let loose, 
Doth bind his liberator to his car; 
There, like the captive of some Roman war. 
To grace his triumph through the streets of Time. 



FLORAL BEAUTY . 39 

THROW OFF THE CHAINS. 



(SKE ACTS 12 : I-II.) 
Throw off the chains that bind thee! 
Thy fetters cast aside! 
The iron links of pa-sion, 
The silken cords of pride. 
Whate'er debars or hinders 
From that which thou may'st be — 
Throw off these chains that bind thee! 
Arise, and be thou free! 

lyong since, in Herod's prison 

A great apostle lay, 

Guarded and bound with fetters, 

Death waiting him next day: 

Came, as he slept, an angel 

To bring him liberty. 

And spake as he awoke him; 

Arise, and be thou free! , 

The earth has still its tyrants, 
Whose chains our souls inthrall: 
Avarice, Superstition, 
Intemp'rance worst of all. 
O, that some God-sent angel 
Within our midst might be! 
To break their cruel shackles, 
And say, Arise; be free! 

Although no shining angel 
Comes to our need this hour, 
By faith we'll grasp the promise 
Of God's almighty power: 
And while the riven fetters 
Fall round us brokenly, 
We shall rejoice together 
In glorious liberty. 



40 IJ^I^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

Throw off the chains that bind thee ! 

Thy fetters cast aside! 

Flee every evil passion, 

Avoid all sinful pride. 

If Appetite or Habit 

Holds fast in slavery, 

Throw off the chains that bind thee! 

Arise, and be thon free! 



1 



THE VINE AND THl^ DOVE. 



Dost love me, my dearest, 
Twin spirit of mine, 
As th* beautiful arbor 
Is loved by the vine ? 
So trustfully clinging 
Till Winter is past. 
Though all of its clusters 
And leaves have been cast. 

I miss thee, my darling, 
As th' dove doth his mate; 
When parted by absence 
How mournful his state! 
So tenderly. calling 
Thro* depths of the wood, 
True type of devotion. 
Both gentle and good. 

But the vine cannot speak, 

It only can cling. 

And the dove cannot write, 

He only can sing; 

How much better are we. 

WhoVe tongues and the pen! 

Let us love and rejoice 

Again and again. 



FI^ORAI, RKAUTY. 4 1 

THE COVERING OF THE THRONE. 



WRITTEN FOR JUNIOR DAY. 
[The reign of Henry Sixth is memorable in English 
history as the period which gave birth to the wars of the 
Roses. The battle of Wakefield was fought about 1460, 
between Queen Margaret and her Red Rose adherents 
on the one side, and Richard, Duke of York, who had 
previously claimed the throne, with five thousand White 
Rose followers on the other. Had the Duke gained this 
battle the k ngdom might have been his. As it was, his 
life paid the penalty of defeat.] 

The sunlight streamed into the hall of England's gather- 
ed peers, 

Where many a noble visage marked conflicting hopes 
and fears, 

In front appeared the empty throne, and waiting by its 
side 

Was seen the gallant Duke of York, of White Rose hearts 
the pride. 

*And wilt thou visit him who reigns in yonder palace 

nigh,' 
Twas Canterbury's Bishop spoke, to whom York made 

reply: 
'I know of none in all the land my power who should not 

own,' 
Then, touched the golden covering that lay upon the 

throne. 

Two years have scarcely sped away, on Wakefield's spac- 
ious green. 

He stands again, in battle-line arrayed against the Queen, 

Fierce is the conflict, brief the strife, and vict'ry seeks 
his foe; 

A son lies on the trampled sod and he is prisoner now. 



42 FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 

To him they give an ant-hill throne, a grassy crown they 

weave, 
And then compel the hapless one their homage to receive; 
How sad the thought v/iiich filled his breast, as rose his 

dying groan! 
That his brave hands had only ton hed the cov'ring of 

the throne. 

Few tales are idle if we heed the wisdom they contain, 
And from another's failure iearn how w^e success may 

gain; 
Each has a kingdom yet <o win, whatever be its renown 
But we like him may only touch the cov'ring of the throne 

Home-training is our armor bright, the weapons we shall 

wield 
Are forged thro' many a study hour for life's great battle- 

fl^ld; 
Our kingdom is the bus}- world, a realm almost unknown, 
And what each one aspires to be — that is the longed-for 

throne. 

Our foes are found on evVy hand, the mightiest are 

within. 
And all around the vanquished lie who once w^ere strong 

to win; 
Yet oft we see the victors crowned with honors all their 

own; 
A Whittier or a Talmage sits upon his chosen throne. 

Mark well th' influence such exert — the scepler of their 

power! 
For this shall never lose its force till time's remotest 

hour; 
This shall live on in other hearts when our appointed 

years 
Have passed, and Life's too-slender thread Fate severs 

with his shears. 



I 



PI.ORAI. BKAUTY. - 43 

Strong be the hand and firm the ^\ill; ours is no tiifiing 

task, ♦ 

The utmost vigor we command is scarce too much to ask; 
Each duty met, each fault o'ercome, tho' singly and 

alone, 
Brings one step nearer to the goal — the seat upon the 

throne 

And when the crises ccme to us, as come they will and 

must. 
To raise us to a higher plane or sink us in the dust, 
Be there no coward flinching seen, no reckless venture 

known, 
'Twas rashness lost the Duke of York a seat on England's 

throne. 

Be th's the voicing of each soul, the motto of each heart 
'God helping us, Vve shall succeed,' and Itt each do his 

part. 
And then when years have sped away and we have older 

grown, 
My comrades, be it ours to sit upon the chosen throne. 



LINES WRITTEN FOR A BIBLE 
PRESENTATION. 

'Tis a light unto our pathway, 
'Tis a lamp unto our feet; 
Guiding us from Earth to Heaven, 
Wilt re the ransomed all shall meet. 



May you find its hidden treasures 
As you search it day by da}^ 
Learning from its blessed pages, 
How to truly "watch and prav." 



44 FI.ORAT. BEAUTY. 

PEACE AND REST. 

IN MEMORIAM P. L. M. MAR. 28, 1896. 

["Life needs must fade to bloom again."] 

Peace after the struggle! 
Rest after the strife! 
Fading out of the earthly 
Into the heavenly life. 

Daily she waited the message 
From th' beautiful Gates Ajar, 
And methinks her sainted vision 
Beheld where the ransomed are. 

Just as the sun was sinking 

Low in the golden west, 

She passed from those who loved h«r 

Into the Land of th' Blest. 

So narrow indeed was the River 
It seemed but a step beyond, 
And the Master carried her over, 
From the Night into the Dawn. 

O, call it not death, my dear sister. 
But rather a blessed sleep; 
Tho' the spirit has gone on a journey, 
And only the clay we keep. 

For we look to the Resurrection, 
The Easter of all the years. 
When our lost ones to us united, 
Joy taketh the place of tears. 

And I know that th' Risen Saviour, 
By the same sweet pow'r divine, 
That brought Him forth 10 the living, 
Shall quicken your dead and mine. 



FI^ORAL BKAUTY. 45 



May He cause thy doubts to vanish 
Like clouds that above us roll! 
May He "who hath borne our sorrows" 
Speak comfort unto thy soul! 



THE GOAL. 

DEDICATED TO THE CI^ASS OF '9I 

We may net know what paths our feet shall tread, 
Nor when the clouds will darken overhead; 
When quiet streams will journey by our side, 
Nor when we'll cross the torrent's swelling tide; 
When we shall walk through va'es of solitude, 
Or tread the shadow}^ mazes of the w^ood; 
What troublous mountains shall before us rise 
With peaks that seem to pierce the lower skies, 
W^hen the bright sun shall heat the dusty way, 
And make thrice dear the fountain's crystal spray; 
Hangs over all the future's mistj/ veil, 
He w^bo attempts to lift it can but fail. 
But one sure goal shall greet our fading sight; 
The Valley of Despair or the Mountain of Delight. 



■ — -^ 



46 FI.ORAI. BEAUTY. 

BURY IvJB WHERE THE ARROW FALLS. 
(robin hood. ) 

.Robin Hood, the famous outlaw of England, lived during the 
twelfth century. Being indisposed in his old age, he repaired to the 
P'ioress of the nunnery of Kirkiey's, to be bled b3' her. She basely 
allowed him to bleed to death, reeling his end drawing near, he 
summoned his fel'.ow chieftain. John Little, called for bovv and 
arrow and designated his pla-e of burial. The writer of this pijem 
has tried to draw a picture of -'bold Robin," true in the main to the 
old chronicles, although aking some liberties, as in the matter of 
the arrow used and the character of Hood's death. It shonld be re. 
membered, howevtr, that our hero lived at a time when deeds of 
violence were not considered so inconsistent with \ professions of 
religious faith, as they are to-day. He certainly showed a real 
nobility of character, in spite of his calli ig, which might argue 
gentle birth and some goodness of heart. 

Brightly rose the sun and golden on that medieval morn, 

When the English outlaw Robin, for the last time vv^ound 
his horn; 

Dewdrops thickly lay and glistened on the sloping con- 
vent lawn, 

Like to pearls 'mid em'ralds sprinkled wheresoe'er the 
sun shone on; 

And upborne on wings of Morning rose the skylark's song 
full clear 

As the Autumn breezes rustled through the elm-trees 
standing near. 

Far out on the v^indow-casement leaned the dying man 

and blew^ 
Stich a blast, as well his comrades, long familiar with 

him, knevv-; 
But of all the little army he had proudly called his own, 
None except the staunch John Little answered to the 

bugle's tone. 
* 'Bring me quickly bow and arrow," Robin spake, "my 

need is sore. 



FI^CRAL EHAUTY. 47 

For the li^eblood gently ebbing robs me of the strength 

of yore; 
Mark the shaft as I shall speed it (Fortune grant my 
aim be good, ) 
In the place the arrow falleth thou shalt bm-y Robin 

Hood." 

"It is well," resumed the chieftain, "thou couldst find 

no better bow, 
And tlie arrow that thou bringest none the less is fitting 

too; 
For its shaft of purest silver and its head of beaten gold, 
To VAY mind, a tale of danger in the distant paiit, unfold; 
Well t!!Ou knowest, when I'd vvon it b}^ my peerless archer 

skill, 
How the treacli'rous slier iff -giver sought me with intent 

to kill; 
But for friendly aid and timely we had perished from 

the land, 
And in graves unmarke^l and lonely wouldi repose cur 

well-tried band, 
But what profit tales of prowess Vvdien I faint from less 

of blood? 
So u here falls the golden arrow thou shalt bury Robin 

Hood. 

"Not a braver son than Robin hath Old England ever 

seen, 
Not a stouter Iieart than Robin's will she ever knovr, 

I ween, 
If my hand hath stripped the wealthy of his too-?tbun- 

dant pelf, 
I have given to the yeoman what he ne'er had gained 

himself. 
Surely He v;ho formed all nature with its flocks and 

herds so free, 



48 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 

Never meant in hateful bondage man should bow the 

servile knee; 
Snrely He who pours his blessings without stint on rich 

and poor, 
Never meant that one should surfeit while the beggars 

crowd his door. 
But my work is now accomplished, men may call it ill or 

good, 
Where the golden arrow falleth thou shalt bur}^ Robin 

Hood. 

"O what form*s and scenes surround me, knights in 

mail with deeds sublmie. 
As I backward turn the pages of thy volume, mighty 

Time! 
Kings have sought for Robin's friendship, I have dwelt 

in castled hall, 
But my tent within the greenwood was the dearest home 

of all. 
Lordly birth and royal favor I have cast away in scorn, 
He Vv^ho hath a noble nature, he alone, is nobly born. 
Other men may pl^y the courtier, give to me the forest 

realm, 
Where among my valiant bowmen my right hand may 

guide the helm. 
Oh! 'tis but a dream of power, lost the height where 

once I stood, 
So where falls the golden arrow shalt thou bury Robin 

Hood. 

"When the early frosts have painted Autumn's aureole 

of gold. 
There's a glorious sunset-beauty that no Springtime can 

unfold; 
And v/iien Age his crown of silver places on the wrinkled 

brow, 



FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 49 

There's a melancholy grandeur that young manhood 

cannot know: 
Though it be a dying splendor that illumes life's twilight 

hour, 
It is worth the years preceding when they bring u 

wisdom's power; 
As for me, my leaf is withered like the foliage of the woods 
So where falls the golden arrow thou shalt bury Robin 

Hood. 

"Give me now the precious arrow, let me hold again the 

bow, 
Ah! I feel my stren^^th returning, seest thou mine eyes 

aglow? 
Come, support me for a moment, then tli}^ keenest glance 

I crave, 
As I shoot the golden arrow that shall mark thy master's 

grave" 
"Didst thou notice where it lighted when its shining 

course was spent? 
Was it 'neath yon spreading elm-tree? That shall be 

my monument ? 
One thing more I fain would charge thee: when my 

death brings thy release, 
Thou shalt be a loyal subject, let thy last days end in 

peace. 
Thou wilt find wherewith to keep thee, lacking neither 

home nor food, 
So where fell the golden arrow thou shalt bury Robin 

Hood. 

*'Lay no flower's — soul of fragrance"'^' on my bosom when 

I'm gone, 
Rather let the ripened harvest symbolize the spirit flown; 
For as sheaves of grain are garnered — by the lab'rer 

tightly bound — 



50 FI^ORAI, BEAUTY 

Into barn and spacious storehouse as each Autumn-tidet 

c^mes round, 
So the soul of man is gathered when the angel-reapers 

come, 
And they bear it on their pinions to its everlasting home. 
Thus the end of life appearetli when God wills, not as 

man would, 
Where the golden arrow lieth thou shalt bury Robin 

Hood.'' 

"Is it instinct? is it reason, that impels the birds to go 
From the homes where they have nested when the 

Autumn tempests blow? 
Seeking in some tropic region balmy air and peaceful 

skies. 
Where the snow-cloud never 'owers, whf^re the summer 

never dies. 
Yv^hy should man shrink back in terror from the Passage 

of the Tomb? 
Does he think to live forever in this world of sin and 

gloom? 
Knows he net that there awaits him in the summer-land 

of Keaven 
Ivarger life and purer pleasures than the Earth has ever 

given? 
There my soul makes haste to enter, trusting in the Only 

Good, 
So where fell the golden arrow thou shalt bury Robin 

Hood. 

*'Now before ni}- failing vision death's dark mists are 

falling fast, 
Blotting out the scenes of nature as they do the life that's 

past, 
And I know no sun arising can dispel the thick'ning 

gloom, 



I 



I?I,ORAL BKAUTY. 'T 

That each moment growing dens2r, shrouds the pathway 
to the tomb. 

Ivet me feel thine arm around me, let me clasp thy faith- 
ful hand, 

Fare thee well till I shall greet thee in another, better 
land," 

Here his voice grew strangel}^ silent, and the ancient 
writers tell 

How his old companion laid him where the golden arrow 
fell. 

*^"The soul of flowers is their fragrance" 
fReferring to the English harvet-time. 



THE BEAUTY HATH FADED. 



The beauty hath faded, the glory is gone, 
The sun set in darkness that latel}^ had shone; 
And the star of our vision hath sunk in the night, 
On another horizon it shineth more bright. 
The beauty hath faded, the glory is gone» 
From th' verdure of Summer the freshness hath 

flown. 
The voice of the bird is hushed on the bill. 
And Winter's cold frosts have silenced the rill. 

The beauty hath faded, the glory is fled, 
The fragrant Helonias lies with the dead; 
The violets' bhie eyes now look upward no more 
In their beautiful pleading — their season is o'er. 

The beauty hath faded, the glory is past, 
O'er Autumn's sad wrecks the white mantle is cast: 
So, kindly Oblivion, stoop down from above, 
And veil from our vision the ruins of love. 



52 FLORAI. BEAUTY, 

LOVE'S LANGUAGE. 

There^is a language not of \v cics, 
A speech without a tongue, 
That never trembles on the air 
By voice melodious sung. 

There is a language of the ej^es 
That needs no printed book, 
And he who sees perchance may read 
A volume in a look. 

There is a language of the face; 
A smile upon the cheek, 
May often times in truth reveal 
What we could never speak. 

There is a language of the heart 
Which may be understood, 
When nothing breaks the silence still 
As some deserted wood. 

There is a chord, to sight unseen, 

That vibrates in the soul. 

When touched by some transcendant liand, 

As harps ^^olian understand 

The Master-winds' control. 



Though gold ma3^ gild the monarch's throne, 

And many a gem and precious stone 

Adorn his diadem, 

To those who feel the despot's. power 

And long for Freedom's happy hour — 

What are these things to them? 



KI^ORAI, BEAUTY . 53 

CHRISTMAS, MERRY CHRISTMAS. 

Christmas merry, Christmas bright, 
Christmas, Merry Christmas! 
Whereso'er the stars of light 
Shine upon a world of white, 
In the Winter's snowy night, 
These are lamps of Christmas. 

Whereso'er o'er field and fell, 
Christmas, Merry Christmas! 
Sweetly sounds the evening bell 
From the church-tow'r in the dtll 
Welcome! Welcome! doth it tell, — 
'Tis a bell of Christmas. 

Whereso'er the gilded tree, 
Christmas, Merry Christmas! 
Lofty cedar fair to see, 
On its boughs that dance with glee 
Holds the gifts for you and me, — 
'Tis a tree of Christmas. 

Rise ye true hearts! rise and sing 
Christmas, Merry Christmas! 
Songs like prayers upward wing, 
Heaven hears your carolling. 
Precious to the Saviour-King, 
Are the songs of Christmas. 

But when all around are glad, 
Christmas, Merry Christmas! 
Care for those whose lives are sad, 
Feed and clothe tlie illy-clad, 
By your kindness touch the bad, — 
These are deeds of Christmas; 



54 FI.ORAI, BEAUTY. 

Christmas mern% Christmas bright, 
Christmas, Merry Christraas! 
• Pointing to that ancient night, 
When on far Judea's height, 
Angels sang in robes of whi'e: 
Christmas, Merry Christmas. 



WEEP NOT. 

Weep not for the soul from earth-cares set free, 
Weep rather for those who remain; 
There is health and joy in the heavenly realm, 
It is earth has sorrow and pain. 

Weep not for the son no longer in life, 
Weep not for the empty chair; 
God taketh in love what He graciuiish^ gave, 
His children are happier there. 

Weep not for the brother \vho greet you no more. 
Seek rather his portion to share; 
His voice now ascends in the heavenly choir, 
His an^iel shall welcome you there. 



Within the shadow}^ preoincts of th' mind, 
Coming and going. Thought is unconfined. 



- — N!^ 



FI,ORAI, BEAUTY. 55 

THB BICYCLE'S SPEECH. 

My Fame encircles the globe toda3% 

Like th' silver ring of the Milky Way; 

Like an Arch of Triumph that firmly stands, 

It speaks of my past to many lands; 

Like the Bow of Promise which spans the sky, 

It tells of a future that cannot die. 

I carry the youth who have learned to ride, 
I bear the burdens of age beside; 
I make no distinction of sex or race, 
Of the poor in rags or the rich in lace; 
I take them all at my quickest speed; 
Outstripping th' pace of the swiftest steed. 

I travel at night as well as by day, 

With searchlight attached to point out the way, 

And my bell of warning the track makes clear 

When pedestrians are loitering near; 

Without bell or lantern you scarce would know 

When I am coming — so noiseless I go. 

Upon me the aged their youth renew, 

As they journey through regions old and new 

And the sickly forget their weary pains, 

As the fresh blood tingles within their veins; 

Adown the long hills see them coasting go. 

Like schoolboys in wmter over the snow! 

To the sons of toil I'm a valued friend. 

And I help the idle their time to spend; 

I'm the school-girl's pet and the young' man's 

pride, 
I'm a source of pleasure to groom and bride; 
If to Niagara^' they cannot roam, 
I furnish th^/allSy free gratis, at home. 

L.ofC. 



56 flo:rat, beauty. 

You may travel tandem or ride alone, 
On the bns}^ street or by fields new-mown, 
Where the song of birds and the scented air 
Rejoice the heart and unburden its care. 
You may make a tour of the w^orld on me, 
And full many a noted wonder see. 

I take the pastor to cheer the sick, 

I bring the doctor at double-quick; 

I carry your letters in times of peace, 

Your dispatches in war till battles cease. 

Now surely the horse, could he think like thee, 

Would utter a glad thanksgiving for me. 

A blessing am I in promoting health, 

I aid all classes in gathering wealth ; 

No trade or calling but finds me a boon, 

And I help to keep the wide world in tune. 

My Fame encircles the globe today, 

And whatever else may pass away, 

The two-wheeled cycle has come to stay. 

*Taken from a prose anecdote. 



FI.ORAI. BEAUTY. 57 

THE GOLDEN KEY. 

I 

Hark to the sound of the wedding bells! 
Over the city their music swells; 
Blest is the bridegroom, happy the bride, 
Who on the morrow will gladly ride 
Far from her home and her social friends, 
To a lonely ranch where the Gila bends. 
Why goes she so lightly with scarce a tear? 
(She'll visit her loved ones but once a year,) 
Ah! that'll be home with her husband you see: 
True love is the key. the beautiful key, 
IvOve is the golden key. 

II 
Why sits the mother so late at night, 
Holding her babe till the morn grows bright ? 
She is fighting disease, and cannot rest 
Till it slumbers peacefully on her breast. 
Oh! the mother-love, what tougue can tell ? 
'Tis high as heaven and deep as hell, 
It is strong as death, broad as the sea; 
Love is the key, the beautiful key, 
Love is the golden key. 

Ill 
It was love that brought the Saviour dear 
From Heaven to light thi^^ dark earth here, 
It was love that caused His blood to flow 
On Calvary's hill so long ago, 
*Twas love burst open His rocky tomb 
And brought ns hope from its empty room; 
Love opens the pearly gates to thee, 
For love is the key, the beautiful key, 
Love is the golden key. 



FI^ORAI. BEAUTY 

IV 
All! love would unlock fall many a heart 
That now seems closed against every art; 
Vain, vain is each long-drawn argument, 
In cruel reproaches thy time's misspent, 
Th' soul that is wronged, or hath wronged, will 

unfold 
To nothing else but Love's own pure gold. 
Wouldst thou gain to thyself thine enemy? 
Then love is the key, the beautiful key, 

Love is the golden key. 



ON A THUNDER SHOWKR 

The lightning flashes from yon cloud, 
The thunder rumbles long and loud, 

Or crashes overhead; 
Driven by wind, the rain doth come 
From clouds that hide the shining sun, 

Man flees before its tread. 

The thinsty earth drinks up the shower. 
Plants and grass will higher tower 

Because God gives them rain; 
The curtains of the sky undrawn, 
The sun beams over field and lawn, 

And smiles on us again. 



FI^ORAI, BKAUTY. 59 

THE MYRTLE 

When Nature clothed the earth with green, . • 

And azure-h ued the sky, 

She sought a plant of ern'rald sheen ^ 

With flowers of bluest dye. 

Whose never-fading leaves might tell 
In Winter as in Spring: 
The everlasting Force that dwells 
In every living thing. 

Whose flowers to all of human birth 
Might speak of Heaven's blue, 
And say to childr n of the Earth: 
"You're Heaven's children loo" 

And so she searched the plain and copse, 
The valley and the steep, 
The shrubs that fringe the river-drops, 
The plants that lowly creep. 

At length the pleasant plant she found, 
(It grows in East and West,) 
And ot all flowers the world around 
She loves the Myrtle best 

When Venus, charming goddess, took 
A symbol -flower for love, 
^Tis said, in some far-ancient book. 
She sought a myrtle-grove. 

And there the life of love I see 
In its undying green, 
While Love in all her purit}^ 
Is in its blossoms seen.''^' 

* It should be remembered that the Myrtle-shrub or Com- 
mon myrtle of Southern Europe has a white blossom, 
while the grv:)und-myrtle has a blue flower. 



6o FLORAI, BEAUTY. 

THE SONS OF THE PHILO. 

Extract 'from Censorial, delivered before June Public 
Meeting of Philosoplnan Literary Society, June 8. 1889. 

Life is a struggle: our debating here, 
A type of what the future shall appear. 
Each strives for niast'ry but not all succeed; 
This seeks too faintly— that with too much greed. 
Here 'tis an honor to win in the debate, 
But in the world that were of little weight. 
Men strive for bread, for riches, and for fame — 
Yea, even live and die to win — a name. 

Sometimes indeed our youthful spirits rise. 
And mirthful thoughts e'en overcome the wise. 
Boys were not boys, had fun no rule or sway, 
Yet, never men if life were only play. 
Part play, part work is Nature's ^Aiser plan. 
'Tis this that makes, by far, the happier man. 

As end our meetings by the ringing bell. 
So Death ends all — it may be ill or well. 
As whf n the darkness fills the empty room, 
Far, far above, still shining through the gloom, 
Are myriad stars; while hanging mid the town 
The lamps electric cast their radiance down: 
So we, when conflicts shall be ours no more, 
Perchance may stand upon a calmer shore; 
And hang the golden lamps of influence high, 
To guide our fellow-pilgrims to the sky. 

Those who are faithful are rewarded best; 
Theirs, dreams of peace and quietness of rest. 
O, be it ours. Life's true sucoess to see, 
And at the last to slumber peacefully! 



FI^ORAI, BEAUTY. 6l 

SBA THOUGHTS. 

Alone with weary feet I stand 
Upon a wave-washed shore, 
Behind is stretched the busy land, 
In front the ocean's roar. 

How like the waves that onward roll 

And die upon the sand, 

Is man, a pilgrim, journeying 

To Heaven's better land. 

The sunlight glistens on the sea, 
And all around is gay; 
The fishes gambol in the deep. 
The waves are glad as they. 

With joy they bring the vessels oa. 
That mark their course with foam; 
The sailor scarcely stops to think 
Of the waves that bear him home. 

So there are times when we are blithe, 
And all seems fair and bright: 
But the calm too oft precedes the storm, 
As day, the darksome night. 

The clouds arise and we are tost 

By winds adverse and strong, 

Like the waves that calm'd at Jesus' word 

On the Galilee of song. 

And Hope that on our shoulder perched. 
Our own warm temples fanned. 
Whose voice was sweet as childhood's, lies 
Like insects on the strand. 

But He who makes the winds to cease. 
Who gave the sea its bound, 
Can still the tempest in each heart 
Where love divine is found. 



62 



I^I^ORAL BEAUTY. 



He can revive the lifeless Hope, 
Or, in its vacant stead, 
Create another yet more fair 
To raise our drooping head. 

So, brother, mid life's gathering storms, 
Mid disappointments rife, 
l/ook upward to that Blessed One 
.Who giveth peace and life. 



FI^ORAI, BKAUTY. 63 

farew:b:ll. 

ON A CHANGE OF RKSIDENCH. 

Farewell to the home that so early thou'rt leaving, 
As a bird in the morning that speeds from its nest; 
Thus, sooner or later, whatever its purpose, 
It seeketh a spot where its pinions may rest, 

Farewell to the home by the smooth flowing Vv^aters, 
Its mem'ry shall haunt thee for many a day; 
There infancy prattled in quaintest of language, 
There childhood hath lingered in happiest play. 

Farewell to that spot, 'tis the home of a stranger; 
For him are the harvest, the fruitage, the toil, 
Andth' bloomingof flowers, that loving hands planted, 
To perfume the air and brighten the soil. 

Yet one hope is left thee amid thy departing: 
The bird wnll return w^here it first 'gan to dwell. 
So, sometimes, wilt thou to the scenes of thy child- 
hood; 
'Tis not to thy friends thou art saying Farwell. 

And as when the stars by cloud-veils are hidden. 
We think of them still as far up in the blue; 
Kven so, when our friends by distance are shadowed, 
Remembrance of them shall be faithful and true. 



Mar-e?3 loot 



/^') 



MAR 16 1901 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724) 779-2111 



